


I’ll Be Watching You

by deliriumbubbles



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Not Blaine or Klaine Friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliriumbubbles/pseuds/deliriumbubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set vaguely in the latter half of S4, post wedding AU. Do not wake up Santana with your constant calls. She will punish you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’ll Be Watching You

_”Every breath you take. Every move you make. Every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you…”_

Santana opened one eye and glared at Kurt’s stupid vibrating phone. Hard. It was on the coffee table. And Kurt was in the shower.

She reached over and hit ignore. Then tossed it back on the table.

_”Every breath you take. Every move you make. Every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you…”_

“Arrggh!” She snatched up the phone again, and again ignored the call.

Santana laid her head back down on a throw pillow and closed her eyes.

_”Every breath you take. Every move you-”_

With murder in her eyes, Santana grabbed the phone and answered it.

“Kurt! Why are you ignoring my calls?” Blaine asked in a wounded tone. “This is never going to work if you don’t-”

“Look, Whine Blanderson. I have four hours to sleep before I have to go back to work. If you don’t stop fucking calling here? I. Am. Going. To _punish you_!” she snarled.

“Ohhh. _Santana_ ,” Blaine said, as if that explained all. He paused. “Do you know where Kurt is?”

“He’s _naked_ in the shower. All soaped up, and _wet_ , and _slippery_ … You know his ass is getting to a ridiculous level of firmness, with all this dancing…”

“O-Oh. ‘Kay. Okay, um… could you tell him…?”

Santana hung up and went back to sleep. 

Some time later, she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she opened her eyes slightly to see Kurt, dressed for work and pulling a blanket over her. There was now a tray on the coffee table, with a mug of tea, a plate of food covered, and a little note with heating instructions for when she woke.

To make sure she ate before going to work, since she hadn’t eaten when she’d got in this morning.

God, Kurt was such a _mom_.

He said nothing as he slipped his phone in his pocket, grabbed his messenger bag, and hurried out the door

***

The thing about Lopezes? 

They kept it real, and they kept their promises.

It was only a few days after Blaine’s incessant calling had woken Santana up when she saw another tangible effect of his inability to realize that no means no. She had just slammed the door shut behind her and locked it, thinking for about the thousandth time that they needed to put in a peep hole, when she noticed a splash of color fluttering in the wind, just outside the window.

Kurt.

She set down her bag and moved closer quietly. He was curled over in the cold, his hand over his mouth. His shoulders shook and his other hand gripped the side of the fire escape so tightly that his fingers were white, but from where Santana stood, his distress was silent.

_”Every breath you take. Every move you make. Every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you…”_ Kurt’s phone sang obliviously from the kitchen.

It didn’t take much to set Santana off. She told people it was because her grandmother, or because Lima Heights, or whatever. Or they assumed she was just miserable because she was closeted. Because _that_ was the only thing that could ever be bothering her.

But the fact was this: The world _sucked_. It was a miserable stinking hole of hate, hypocrisy, and manipulation, and the best defense was a good offense. 

She watched Kurt’s shoulders bowed over by some weight he wouldn’t share. Not with her, or Rachel. She was pretty sure he hadn’t shared it with his father, either.

_”Every breath you take. Every move you make. Every bond you break, every step you take, I’ll be watching you…”_

Her eyes narrowed.

_”Oh, can’t you seee? You belong to me! How my pour heart a-ches! With every step you take!”_

Santana sucked in her cheeks, lifting her chin as she examined the phone. Then she hit ignore and opened a text to Adam:

_Busy? Want to come over?_

***

Blaine’s hands were shaking as he hurried up to his room. He’d been so excited and distracted that he’d almost gotten into an accident twice on the way home. Getting an email from Kurt in the middle of the day was pretty great on its own. But getting one from him that read—

_NSFW (or school heheh)_

_Make sure you’re alone when you watch, okay?_

_Eternally yours,_

_Kurt ;)_

—with a _video attachment_?

It was almost too much for his heart and his pants to take. Kurt could be a little prudish, and he was definitely prone to the overly romantic. (Of course, that made sense for guy attending a fancy, exclusive theatre school.) But there were also times when Kurt could be a little _naughty_ , and they were made only hotter by his normal sense of propriety.

Blaine was a little afraid that it would be a video of Kurt shopping for argyle socks while singing “Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go” a capella. Because his boyfriend was also an incredible tease. Just look at how he’d been acting at the wedding!

See you downstairs. Really.

Blaine locked the door behind him to prevent any videous interruptus from Cooper or his mom, then settled onto his bed with a laptop and eagerly opened the attachment.

“C’mon, c’mon…” he urged as the little color wheel swirled, oblivious to his need.

Then the picture started to move and the white of Kurt’s flesh came into focus. A long, naked leg stretched out of thick, dark covers. Blaine recognized the pattern of freckles on his right thigh. Kurt’s toes wiggled in the air, then his foot stretched forward and dug into the mattress.

Blaine groaned and leaned forward.

There was whispering in the background, and the camera moved back just as Kurt rose. His briefs hugged his ass tightly as he got onto his knees. Santana had been right about the dancing. Not that his ass had been flabby before, but now it, and his thighs, had gained in muscle. He had been working _hard_ in those dance classes…

“Shh! Shh!”

Giggling.

“I don’t want the girls to hear…” Kurt murmured. He hitched his thumbs into the band of his underwear and started to slide them downward.

“Oh, _lovely_ …”

A strong, broad hand squeezed the side of Kurt’s firm thigh.

Blaine stopped rubbing himself and froze. 

As Kurt lifted his other leg to straddle the other person in the bed, and the rogue hand moved down Kurt’s thigh, just feeling him, then settled on Kurt’s back, right above his hip.

“Do you have another condom?” the other voice asked. All British and deep.

Blaine felt himself getting cold, but he didn’t turn the video off.

A condom was ripped open, and Blaine got a look at the guy while he rose onto his elbows to put the condom on Kurt. Kurt hitched up the guy’s muscular leg. His tongue slide over his lips as he grinned down on the man with daring and lasciviousness. 

More whispers, more shushing, more movement. Grinding, feeling, kissing, panting. The blond man throwing his head back as Kurt made him come hard enough to quiver under his touch and grip the sheets tightly. Kurt’s back muscles clenching, and his mouth opening in a silent gasp, then letting out a soft, “God, _damn_ …”

When they were done, Blaine’s cheeks were wet. His hands shook in an entirely different way. Kurt drew his fingers through the man’s air, and kissed his forehead, and settled beside him, rubbing his strong chest. God, this guy was cut. And Kurt…

Sick and ungrounded, Blaine sat there, letting the the video continue over their contented scene of cuddling. This wasn’t a hook up. This was middle of the night friskiness between Kurt and someone not over for just the sex. Just _over_. Just _in Kurt’s bed_ because Kurt _just wanted_ him there.

The man’s arm curled around Kurt, holding him securely, and he kissed Kurt’s nose, causing a flirty, satisfied smile on Kurt’s lips.

  
God, Kurt was in _love_ with this guy.

The camera started to move. The scene went shaky, moving through the apartment, then out to the fire escape.

Santana’s face appeared as the camera turned around. Her harsh laugh rang out. “Heeeey, Warble-face! What did I say? I _told_ you I was gonna punish you.” 

She lifted her head, then moved her hand with flourish, as she sang,

“Stop callin.’ Stop callin’. He don’t wanna talk anymore. You ruined your shot with that ho you boned!”

Blaine blinked in disbelief.

“Anyway. _Stop. Callin’._ ” Santana pursed her lips and raised Kurt’s phone in her hand. “‘Cause I can _go_ further, if you really wanna push it. I can go further, and you know I can.”

Santana began to speak again, but Blaine shut his laptop and turned away from it to the side of the bed. He stared at the floor for a long time, trying to keep the image of Kurt mounting someone else like a wild-maned lion out of his mind.

***

Santana sat on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, filing her nails. Kurt breezed by wearing pajama bottoms and a tank top and pushed her feet off.

“Hey!”

“Keep your hooves down. We put food on that table,” he said.

Santana rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Is ‘God Damn’ coming over ever again, or what? I need to know when I’ll be rocked to sleep by a grunty lullaby again.”

Kurt stopped where he was in the kitchen. Santana looked and saw him grimacing. 

“Sorry about that. I thought we were quiet, but…” He shook his head. “Whatever. If it’s good, it’s _not_ that quiet. That was classless. We’ll behave, or we’ll stay over at his place.”

“Whoa. No, no, no. I don’t want to be a cock block. Cock all you want.” She rose and came over to where he was pulling things out of the refrigerator. 

“No, it’s _rude_.”

“Someone in this apartment has to be getting some. Or we’ll all go crazy on each other.”

“Y’know, the hilarious thing about that is we’re the three _least_ likely people to go at it with each other.” Kurt smirked.

“You think I didn’t take that into consideration when I crash-landed on your doorstep, Mr. Fancy Pants?”

Kurt tilted his head toward her and gave her a fond smile. “Want some eggs?”

“Sure.” Santana opened up the fridge herself. “I can cut up some fruit to go with.”

“Yum.” Kurt started to whisk the eggs. “Have you seen my phone? I’m losing my mind trying to find it.”

Santana paused, a piece of strawberry in her mouth. She pointed to the coffee table.

Kurt stared over at it with a frown. “What is wrong with me? I’ve been looking for that for days. My voice mail is probably full by now.”

He set down the eggs, went over to grab it, and looked at the screen on his way back to the kitchen. “Huh.”

“Sup?” Santana focused on arranging the fruit on a plate all pretty.

“Not as many calls as I expected. I should call my dad, though.”

Kurt got back to his breakfast making and settled into an easy banter with her. As Kurt’s shoulders relaxed, Santana smiled wickedly. 

She snuck over as he was tending the eggs and gave his cheek a big, strawberry flavored lick.

“Ahh! What! What is happening to me?!”

Santana threw her head back and laughed. Kurt shot her a stern look and wiped his cheek with the back of his hand.

“I’m living with heathens.”

“You love us.”

“Hmph.” Kurt tended the eggs a minute, then moved them onto plates. “We’re going cabaret this weekend. Adam and me, and some Apples. You want to come? There are a few red and juicies that were looking at you last time you were hanging out with us,” he teased.

“Red and…” Santana shook her head and sucked on a grape. “I dunno. I dunno. Maybe.”

Kurt met her eye and rubbed his hands together. “Or am I messing with the plans of you and a certain blond ex-cheerleader?”

“Shut up. I might go.” Santana shrugged. “If I have nothing better to do.” 

Kurt handed her a plate of eggs, and when he turned to make himself some tea…

Her lips curved upward, with warmth.


End file.
